The Reason
by seizetheday224
Summary: Exploring the potential problems that I thought would be likely to come up in Tiana and Naveen's marriage.
1. Storyville

As the clock struck 10, Naveen's restlessness became uncontainable. He had to go outside, play a song, dance- just _something_ to get his mind off how useless he felt when Tiana was not around. He snatched the uke off the table and strummed aimlessly, deciding what to do. When he fixed his mind on what he wanted, he instantly knew Tiana wouldn't like it. But how could she know? She said she wouldn't be back until midnight from the restaurant, where she was working out a new menu. He would just play for a couple hours, talk to couple of people and come home. Simple. Harmless.

Fine, he would leave a note at least. He rushed into Tiana's office and scrawled on a piece of typewriter paper that he stuck on the coatrack next to the door. With that, Naveen slapped on his porkpie cap and sauntered out to go busking in Storyville.

"Armande, I really do insist that it needs cream. You must admit that it makes the whole stew richer, and that is what our customers want!" Tiana declared. Why was it she had to deal with so many people that were both brilliantly talented and impossibly difficult?

"Rich! Pah. Rich in heart failure. It is not about customer. It is about art. I am a culinary artist. I must stay true to my vision." That was the straw. Tiana slammed down her mixing spoon and spoke in a deadly calm voice, the same one that always won arguments with her husband.

"Your vision ain't what's gettin' you the money to make your "art". I am. And the customers pay me. So if your art is the priority here, I kindly suggest that you do as I say." Armande's proud face fell just enough to tell Tiana that she had won, but the Frenchwoman quickly regained her composure.

"I am exhausted, and I am going home. I cannot possibly be doing any good here when I am tired. The same goes for you, _patron._" She used the last word with pointed mockery, but Tiana didn't give a whit. She knew that from now on, her new sous chef would leave the last word to her. They may have to battle to get to that point, but at least she knew that. Armande threw on her coat and hung her toque by the door, sweeping out the door with great drama.

"_Bioque,"_ she muttered under her breath. Muttering curses she'd learned from growing up in the French Quarter was a bad habit of hers, but she'd lost all self-restraint at this point. For a moment, she considered continuing on her own, but she knew that if she tried, she'd come up with ridiculous things that she would only have to change in the morning. Right now, she needed Naveen to make slow sweet love to her until she fell asleep. Good Mood Tiana would have scolded herself for being so brusque, but Cranky Tiana didn't give a damn.

_Every morn' my memories stray, across the sea where flying fishes play, and as the night is falling, I find that I'm recalling, that blissful all-enthralling day._ Naveen crooned the lyrics of "Avalon" while the light and laughter of a far-off club spilled into the nighttime. He'd lost track of the time, but he'd been busking on the corner of Dauphine and Iberville for two hours already. His cap was full of copper coins, and his ears were full of acclamations of "how talented" he was, and that he was "sure to strike it big".

A couple of drunken girls staggered down Dauphine Street toward him. He watched their faces change when they became aware of the music. The wonder and excitement he saw there was utterly predictable and addicting. He knew exactly what they'd say.

"Well isn't that beautiful!" a curvy brunette exclaimed. "Girls, listen to that beautiful music!"

Another slightly skinnier brunette slurred, "Look at the beautiful man." Naveen played it cool, but his heart was beating a little faster. He fed off their admiration like an addiction, and like an addict, he fell into the same old cycle.

"Good evening, beautiful ladies. How are you this fine evening?"

"Aw, what a gentleman. I like gentlemen," a wide eyed blonde gushed.

"Swell, now that you're here," the skinny brunette drawled. She struck Naveen as being exceedingly drunk. She leaned against the wall next to him and ran her hand through his hair. Naveen could've sworn he faintly heard Tiana calling his name, but he knew he was imagining it.

"Do you take requests?" she breathed into his ear. She stank of the heavy scent of alcohol, which smacked of memories of a time long ago.

"For a pretty penny," he replied. The skinny girl rummaged in her purse, nearly dropping it, and flicked a copper coin at his porkpie on the pavement, missing by a few inches.

"Play Margie," she giggled. "That's my name, Margie." Naveen cleared his throat, feeling as if he was two years younger, lost in the rush of the moment.

"Of course." He tried to remember the words – the last time he'd heard it was when the house band played it at Tiana's Place. Tiana's Place. Anyway.

_Margie I'm always thinking of you _

_Margie I'll tell the world I love you _

Tiana had been talking to the mayor, and when this song had started playing, Naveen had snatched her away for a dance.

_Don't forget your promise to me_

_I will buy you a home and ring and everything_

At first she was furious, but when he started singing to her, she softened in his arms, and her eyes filled with light.

_For Margie you've been my inspiration, days are never blue_

_After all is said and done there is really only one, oh Margie Margie it's you_

Now Tiana's face was as clear before him as the streetlight across Iberville. Naveen shook himself and remembered that a drunken woman was practically draping herself on his arm, waiting for him to kiss her, and he suddenly had no idea how he'd gotten in that situation. He shook her off, snatched up his cap, and dumped the coins on the ground.

"Buy yourself a taxi, ladies," he muttered hurriedly, and took off down Dauphine and back to Tiana.

As if she hadn't already had to deal with enough that day, the taxi driver went half the speed of all the other cars, leaving Tiana feeling like a pressure cooker about to explode.

"Thank you," she grumbled as she slammed the door of the car, gripping her change so tightly that it hurt. It took all her energy to walk up the stairs of the townhouse and swing open the ornate door.

"Naveen!" she mustered. She needed to see him right away. She slowly took off her coat and hat, waiting for a response. Normally he replied instantly. But then she reminded herself that it was late, and he was probably conked out. She was immediately disappointed, but then remembered when she had woken him up in the middle of the night before and found that Naveen was an exquisite lover when he was sleepy. As she hung her hat on the coatrack, she noticed a scrap of paper with her husband's small, messy handwriting on it. She pulled it off the notch to inspect it.

_Went to Storyville_

Rage swept over her. Not only had he gone to the place she hated the most, but he'd left her a note, as if that would make her approve of it!

"That bastard!" she yelled. "That ridiculous piece of shit!" She threw down her coat and stormed out the door, determined to find him. She would not let some gaggle of stupid women put him into a trance again.


	2. Dauphine

Before she started running, she let her hair down, which she never did in public. If she was going to run like a maniac to the French Quarter, she didn't want to be recognized as the Princess of Maldonia and the owner of a prestigious restaurant. In that moment of reason, she decided to call a cab instead. Luckily, she caught a fast driver who took her to Storyville at dizzying speed.

As he drove, Tiana ran over what she was going to do to Naveen. This lessened some of the instinctual rage that would've caused her to scream at him and potentially strangle him. She'd learned after two years that he didn't respond to that kind of behavior. It would remind him too much of his mother or his governesses from childhood, who he had learned to shut out.

She knew what she had to do, because she knew the reason.

As the driver raced down Dauphine, she suddenly spotted him, running and clutching his porkpie to keep it from flying off.

"Stop! Stop here!" she cried, pointing toward him. The driver screeched to a halt. Tiana threw a half dollar at him, hurriedly muttered for him to keep the change, and stumbled out onto the sidewalk in front of her husband. He finally saw her and slowed to a hesitant walk.

A smeared lipstick mark stained his cheek, and that was all Tiana could see. She rushed up to him with her hand raised to strike.

"Tiana!" he cried. His voice opened her eyes to the rest of his face, twisted with guilt. Her hand fell limply to her side, a lump formed in her throat. She tried to remember the words she thought she was going to say.

"I know you're better than this," Tiana said, her voice low, gesturing from his face to the whorehouse across the street. She swallowed hard, determined not to cry. "What were you doing?"


End file.
